


The Light of Day

by lostinnowhereland



Series: Always Worth It [3]
Category: One Direction (Band), Zayn Malik (Musician)
Genre: Airplane, Alcohol, Alternate Reality, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Boys In Love, Cheating, Confusion, Drunk Zayn, Drunken Flirting, Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Elevator, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, F/M, Fate, Fate & Destiny, Fear of Flying, First Love, Fluff, Hotels, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Los Angeles, Love, Love at First Sight, Mile High Club, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, New Year's Party, Touring, True Love, Underage Kissing, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-07
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-04-30 10:39:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5160713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lostinnowhereland/pseuds/lostinnowhereland
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if Zayn and Shylah had never met?  What if, just maybe, the elevator had never stopped?  What if they never had the chance to do more than look at each other, to touch for a few heart beats of a moment because of a klutzy misstep?</p><p>Or what happens when Zayn and Shylah never get stuck in a broken down elevator because apparently fate needs to get it's shit together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Soooo, I couldn't leave Shy and Zayn alone. I just love them too much and I had this thought- What would happen if they hadn't ever gotten trapped?- and following it- How would they come together again?
> 
> This is the first part of another two part story. This one follows the timeline of "Through the Dark" and the sequel will follow the timeline of "And Into the Light" with possibly more events occurring beyond where that story left off. This story will be much shorter than the second, but I will continue it, though the progress may be slow. (:

Shylah's POV:

I stared mindlessly at the ceiling, listening to the tick of the clock on the wall, hand on my bare stomach, fingers lightly drawing patterns over the soft skin. I never wanted to move. Stuck somewhere between tired and alert, my mind was stagnant, willing to find peace in the absent gazing around the small hotel room I was staying in.

There was a New Year's Eve party about to start downstairs, quite early in my opinion but what would I know about appropriate times for a celebration? It wasn't even close to one of my past times but I was expected to attend. My grandmother's company was throwing the bash, eager to attain new clients and throw their money around.

It was the entire reason that I was in LA. My grandma had insisted on me coming along with her, wanting to show me a city that I lived only eight hours away from but had never seen. I had a feeling that the real reason had more to do with her needing a traveling companion and my mother being worried about my habit of being anti-social.

Either way I wasn't allowed to be holed up in my room. Instead, I was being forced to wear things I'd never normally put on, and made to attend a party that I'd avoid at all costs. But if it would soothe my mother's concerns it was the least I could do. That and my grandmother was not a woman whose wrath I wanted to incur.

I sighed, rolling out of bed with great reluctance, padding across the plush carpet and to my black suitcase in tiny, barely there, lingerie. Picking through the neatly folded clothing I found the outfit planned for the night. The one that I wanted nothing to do with but was commanded to wear. The only solace was that I had managed to talk my grandma down from a flashy, short, tight dress she'd originally had her eye on.

I struggled into the low cut, red shirt before jumping into dark wash skinnies that were every bit as tight as the top I was wearing. It was a fight to the death between me and the clothes but I finally won, breathing hard as I headed for the en suite, bracing myself for what I was about to see.

I sucked in a sharp breath at my reflection after I walked into the bathroom, eyeing all the problems that prevented me from being confident in my body. I shoved the poisonous thoughts to the back of my mind, fighting the urge to rip everything off, put on some baggy clothes and have a good cry while consuming my weight in chocolate. I exhaled slowly, swiping on a coat of the chapstick that I carried with me regularly, fluffing my hair.

"Welp," I huffed out quietly, nodding decisively before turning on my heel.

I grabbed the blankie that I was way too old for and the large blanket from the bed, wrapping it around myself for some extra courage to leave the room. I was just supposed to meet my Grandma a few floors below in her own suite, but I'd rather put off the inevitable reveal.

I'd probably get shit for not doing anything with my hair or taking the time to put on makeup but I always managed to injure myself somehow every time I attempted either. It wasn't worth the risk of burning myself or poking myself in the eye. I'd prefer the lecture that was sure to come. That and neither felt like me. I was already far enough out of my comfort zone with the sexy undergarments and the equally nauseating clothing. Grandma would just have to deal with the disappointment.

I peeked out into the hallway, searching for any signs of life before I crept towards the elevator, cursing quietly when I tripped over my own feet. I jammed my thumb into the down button, waiting impatiently for the compartment to reach my floor.

Shifting from foot to foot, anxiety built up inside me at the thought of all the people that would no doubt be downstairs. Interacting was not something I craved. I couldn't help that I was an introvert, and the idea of being swallowed whole by the crowds waiting in the ballroom, or wherever the party was being held, had me thrumming with the need to run away, already exhausted from the energy it took just imagining the drunken groping of executives and the multitude of guests.

The elevator arrived with a ding that sounded like the bell of a church tolling in mourning to me as I boarded and tightened the blanket around my shoulder, hugging my blankie to my chest. Metal doors shuddered closed as I was lowered with a jolt after pressing the number for the floor my grandmother was on.

Seconds later everything stopped before reaching the correct floor, doors peeling open to allow a boy, er, man on.

My heart stuttered before kicking up, pounding against my rib cage as my breath hitched and my mouth went dry. Zayn Malik. Zayn flipping Malik was getting on the elevator with me, punching the button for lobby as my hazel eyes fixed on the smattering of scruff lining his strong jaw and devastating cheek bones.

He was perfection, raven black hair styled into his signature quiff, dark leather straining over broad shoulders and fitting to his narrow waist with practiced ease. A small, polite smile made the corners of his pouty lips tip up in an amused display of a greeting, whiskey eyes raking over my hidden body.

He chuckled, mouth stretching into a smirk with a genuine edge, "Breathe, babe."

I blushed, cheeks flooding with warmth as I ducked my head, "Sorry, I just didn't know One Direction was staying here."

I cursed myself for not taking the effort to better my appearance, refusing to entertain the thought of looking up or dropping the now embarrassing blankets I'd wrapped myself in.

"We're on tour, the boys are already downstairs," Zayn replied, scratching at his jaw with a slight grin now that he seemed sure I wasn't going to start shrieking.

I gulped, trying to get my brain to work again. He was just so gorgeous, eyes crinkling at the corners, the long line of his muscular body accentuated by the clothes that were no doubt meticulously chosen specifically for him. It was intimidating, being the presence of someone that embodied beauty when I was so plain in comparison.

The funny thing was that the silence that had descended was nothing other than easy, comfortable as we studied each other. It felt like the most natural thing in the world, the calm that washed over me despite the fact that he was a complete stranger and one fifth of the most popular boy band in the world.

The usual tension that would fill the small space because of the awkwardness due to being confined with someone you didn't know wasn't there. Any worries I had bled away, followed by the inevitable darkening of the flush already present on pale cheeks.

I peered up at the star through my eyelashes, catching the way his teeth flashed, brilliantly, as he chuckled again, a husky laugh most likely caused by his smoking habit.

When the elevator reached my grandma's floor it was as if my world had stopped, paused with bated breath as we held eye contact and I rushed to leave. I stepped on the edge of the blanket, tripping and pitching forward, into Zayn's arms with a startled gasp.

He drew me into his chest, bracing against the impact as I clutched onto his leather clad biceps, pulse going mad at the closeness. I could smell the spiciness of his cologne, the sharp safety of it invading my senses.

"I've got you, yeah?" Zayn smiled, readjusting his grip, hands dropping to my waist to properly steady me before letting go.

I swallowed hard, nodding, "Thanks."

"'Course, love," He assured me, bending to grab the fallen blankets and handing them over, turning as I escaped.

I threw one last glance over my shoulder, face burning from Zayn's gentle touch, watching as the doors slid shut and obstructed my view of the striking man I'd had the good fortune to meet.

With a deep breath I made my way to the right room, mind racing as it tried to process what just happened. Just a few moments alone with Zayn had left me disoriented, so much peace and happiness spearing through me from the short encounter. It left my heart racing, adrenaline pumping through my veins in a way that it'd never done before. I'd never felt more alive in the span of a few minutes and the thought I would never get that again was terrifying.

Something dreadfully nasty hoped we would meet again. We probably never would, but the quiet strains of fate had a way of playing tricks and whatever was meant to happen would. I just wished that there was a way of knowing what was in store for my lonely heart.


	2. Chapter 2

Zayn's POV:

I grumbled as I struggled to perfect my quiff, glaring at my reflection in the mirror. I wanted to get downstairs already, planning to get well pissed. The rest of the boys had gone ahead-not before taking the piss for being vain-and were probably on their way to being proper sloshed.

With a sigh I finally managed to fix the pliant locks in place before pulling on my leather jacket, eternally grateful to Caroline for saving me the trouble of picking my own outfits. I padded out into the living room of the enormous suite that being a famous boy band afforded us, still unused to the wall of windows that overlooked LA.

I resisted the impulse to lose myself in a cloud of smoke, fingers twitching for a cigarette as I headed for the door, almost tripping over a pair of Lou's trainers. Cursing, I poked my head out warily, searching up and down the hall for any sign of fans or paps before I realized it was useless, they wouldn't have been able to get this far up. Just to be safe, and keep everyone guessing where we were staying, I descended a few flights of stairs before punching a lift button to go down.

Alert, jittery, and dying for a smoke I glanced nervously about, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans, waiting for someone to pop out and surprise me. Nothing happened before the lift reached whatever floor I was on with a ding, metal doors sliding open with a slight grating sound to reveal a girl leaning against the far wall.

My chest tightened as I drank her in, expecting her to start screeching and nearly cringing in anticipation. I stepped on when she hadn't moved, just gazed at me a bit in awe with wide, hazel eyes. I gave her a tentative smile, noticing the way that the soft waves cascaded over her shoulders as she dropped her eyes, staring down at her hidden feet.

I numbly pressed the proper button for the lobby, eyes flicking back to her as she nibbled her bottom lip. I did my best not to gape, overwhelmed by the attraction that washed over me despite the clashing sense of anxiousness that rolled off of her in waves. The nervousness crashed into me almost as strongly as the baffling urge to run my fingers through her hair and bite at her lips for her.

"Breathe, babe," I encouraged, finding the words that had become lodged in my throat.

She smiled softly, a slight dimple popping out from the deep set smile as she relaxed, body loosening and shoulders slumping. It was nowhere near as prominent or eye catching as Harry's, but it was there all the same, just this shallow dip that added an extra bit of unecessary charm.

The soft lilt of her American accent somehow caught me by surprise as I watched her mouth form words, barely able to catch them from concentrating on the dusting of freckles across her nose.

We sized each other up in silence, the elevator ride stretching into forever, as we watched.

Not a stitch of makeup marred her delicate features, just a very slight sheen on her tantalizing lips as they curved up at the corners. I wasn't sure if it was natural or not but as my eyes roved her face I decided it was before moving on to the gentle curve of her cheekbones then moving onto those eyes.

Sharp and aware, ringed with green before fading to brown, I lost myself in them. They whispered of a maturity earned from growing up too fast, a look I knew too well as I saw it reflected each time I saw my band mates or studied myself in the mirror. I caught the softness that radiated, something that oozed caring and love. **_Fuck._**

I absently wondered what was under the blankets when the lift came to a stop, the doors pulling open. The girl gave me a smile as she went to leave and I resisted the urge to groan at the loss when she happened to trip into my arms, frantically grabbing at them.

Hands shooting out, I gripped her hips tightly, thumbs digging in just above the bones. I caught a glimpse of ample cleavage caged in a low cut top before I met her gaze with a reassuring grin.

"I've got you, yeah?" I promised, fingers splaying over her lower back.

"Thanks," she murmured hesitantly as I smoothed my hands over her sides to help her regain the balance she lost.

"'Course, love," I replied, reluctantly letting go.

I dipped down to hand back the blankets she'd dropped, passing them over so the stranger could clutch them to her chest as she scurried away.

She looked back one last time as the doors closed and I stared at the curve of her spine gentling into a nicely shaped bum.

It was then I felt like I could breathe again without her expressive eyes boring into mine. The once steady thump of my heart had somehow begun racing without my realizing and it was only once she'd left that I had the capacity to focus on slowing it down.

I pressed my forehead to the cool wall, breath puffing out against the chrome of it as I tried to calm down. I remembered Perrie, the girl I'd proposed to just a few months before, the memory of her rushing back and settling me. I loved her, she was the one for me, just hadn't seen her in so long and we'd barely had time to talk between our busy schedules. That's all it was. That's all it had to be.

I reveled in the significantly shorter ride down to the hotel lobby, slinking through the crowd unseen, taking advantage of the throng of people. Everyone was either waiting to get into the exclusive party or mingling beforehand when it would be too loud to have a proper conversation with a strong bass added on top of the alcohol most likely to course through their veins.

I slipped inside and eagerly made my way to the bar, ordering two shots and requesting the strongest liquor they had. I needed to forget for a while; erase the random girl on my mind, stifle the increasing pressure being Zayn Malik of One Direction required, and snub out the spark of doubt about my engagement.

I tossed it all back with practiced ease despite the strong burn of the alcohol as I leaned against the bar, keeping an eye out for my mates and desperately trying to ignore the pair of blazing hazel eyes branded into the back of my eyelids.


	3. Chapter 3

Shylah's POV:

I didn't even have to knock when I reached my grandmother's room. The door flew open with an alarming force and I was met with the severe, sophisticated look of a woman in her late 50s.

We both blinked at each other in surprise for moment as I took in how amazing she looked, especially for her age. Her hair was secured primly in a bun at the back of her head, toned body clad in a slimming sheath dress complimented by simple accessories. It was style and grace I could only hope to achieve.

"There you are, dear. I was just about to call and let you know I'd meet you downstairs," she sighed, waving her cell around as she stowed it in her silver accented clutch.

"Just throw those blankets in my room, and then come along, we're already late," Grandmother snapped distractedly, looking me up and down before she gave me an approving smile only slightly tinged with disappointment over my rather naked face.

"Yeah, I'll meet you down there," I assured, stepping easily out of her way as she gave me an absent nod before sweeping down the hall.

Closing the door behind me after watching her go, envy burned through me at the confidence she exuded with every fiber of her being. I felt weird, unsettled and out of sorts like I didn't belong in my own skin. I just wanted to go back to my own room, to hide and never emerge, even if I would earn myself a long winded lecture.

Calm, even breaths, that's what I had to concentrate on as I reluctantly set the blankets aside. I shivered, goosebumps pebbling across my skin now that the air conditioning was free to engulf me in an icy hug. With one last, long suffering sigh, I checked my pockets, making sure I had my chapstick and, most importantly, my phone which I would probably be glued to the entire night.

 

It was loud, almost deafening, in the huge ballroom where the event was held with bodies packed tightly together as they writhed on the floor. It was as if they all moved in tandem; one living, breathing thing that pulsed and ebbed like the alcohol and/or drugs spreading through their veins and freeing their inhibitions.

Everyone was well on their way to drunk, if they weren't there already, overpriced drinks glued to hands and sloshed over expensive clothes that probably cost more than two month's rent. It was everything that I feared and avoided, feeling out of place and like everyone just **_knew_**.

They knew that I wasn't one of them. Just a girl dressed up in clothes she hated and forced to interact with people that she loathed even more. They all saw me for what I was: an outcast. I didn't belong in a place like this, where each person made an exorbitant amount of money when my mother wasn't even employed. No, I was the equivalent of scum to them, masquerading in nothing but the barest guise of wealth provided by a grandmother who was more preoccupied with her work than anything else in her life.

I shoved my way through the crowd, stumbling when I was trampled on by unaware party guests and cursing my rather short height. If I hadn't been so vertically challenged then I wouldn't get stepped on so much, I was sure of it. People wouldn't tred on a tall, statuesque girl. They would happily move out of her way as they ogled her beauty. Although, I would probably look like a limp string bean that was too round around the middle that no one wanted to eat because it looked so very odd if I were actually tall like my mother's side of the family.

I finally made it to the bar, hoisting myself up on a tall stool that I had to practically scale, almost falling over once. I hoped to remain on the padded seat for the rest of the night doing what I did best: taking turns observing silently and staring at my phone screen. Those really were the only options. That way no one would feel obligated to talk to the pathetic girl who looked younger than she actually was, and aimlessly searched the crowd like she was waiting for someone who didn't exist. I sighed, ducking down until my forehead was pressed to the cool surface of the lit bar, closing my eyes against the sharp white glow of it.

"Probably not very sanitary that," a smooth voice chuckled directly to my right.

I didn't even flinch. I'd heard the scrape of the stool pulling out but I hadn't expected it's occupant to talk to me. Nor did I think that when I opened my eyes I would be peering at a glassy eyed Zayn Malik twisted in half so he could see me from under my arms.

I jerked upright abruptly at the close contact, heart thrumming as he blinked slowly before righting himself. He must've been gone already and I'd only seen him a few hours ago. I guess it was a holiday for superstars too.

"Probably not," I shrugged in answer, shifting in my seat apprehensively.

He was just- He was staring so intensely, bedroom eyes dreamily roving over me as seductive as ever. I doubted he even knew what he was doing. If anything he was just so hammered he was having trouble controlling the overly sexual gaze that had me melting and wanting to lean in closer.

"What's your name, love?" Zayn asked finally, licking stained, pouty lips tinged an obscene red color that made him look like he'd been sucking on a cherry popsicle for the last couple of hours.

I blushed right down to my toes when he happened to sway forward and it was my turn to catch him as his palm slapped down on the bar. His fingers flexed, long and deft, cuff of his jacket riding up to reveal a delicate, tattooed wrist. I didn't even notice I'd grabbed onto the well worn leather until he was tipping back again, still a bit wobbly. My grip tightened until Zayn was firmly slumped on his stool.

"Shylah. My name is Shylah," I told him with a small smile, lips pressed tight together.

It was my polite smile. The one I constantly gave to strangers I had the misfortune of making eye contact with. Just to let them know that I was friendly but was in no way interested in starting a conversation that would end up boring them to tears anyway. I could do small talk, it was necessary when I was related to my grandmother and a lot of what we did was just that, but I didn't prefer it by any means.

Zayn hummed, a musical little note rumbling in his chest as an easy grin spread across his face and his lids drooped closed again, "Shylah."

He repeated my name as if it were something sweet on his tongue, tasting the way it sounded coming from his ridiculous mouth.

"Pretty, fits you, like. You're pretty, and it's pretty, and like," he laughed dopily, tipping sideways.

Luckily it was towards the bar this time.

"Um, thank you?" I giggled nervously, a pleasant flare of warmth lighting me up for years to come.

"Yeah, like, your eyes. They're hazel, did you know? 'S amazing innit?" Zayn babbled dazedly, awkwardly leaning on the counter top.

I was surprised we weren't attracting any weird looks but that might have been more to do with the late hour. No one cared anymore. All the good gossip had been shared, whispered from one ear to the next, and all the business had been taken care of in order to get to the fun part of the night. I'll never understand why people found drinking so fun. Any type of alcohol, no matter how watered down or disguised by fruitiness, tasted absolutely terrible to me.

"What's amazing?" I inquired when it became obvious that Zayn wasn't going to elaborate.

"Fuck, everything," he slurred, head thunking onto my shoulder when he suddenly stood up.

I caught him at the last second, glad for the height the stool gave me. If I'd been standing without it's support I would've toppled over, taking Zayn with me. I also happened to be gravitationally challenged.

"Are you okay?" I murmured, shooting a quick look around us to make sure no one was paying attention.

"Tired, like- Just, tired," Zayn mumbled, long lashes fluttering over my collarbone.

A hard shiver jolted through me, goosebumps spreading like wildfire, blazing their way over my skin.

"Alright, you want to go back up to your room? I'll help you, just have to get out of here first," I promised, pushing a little at his shoulders.

"Mmm yeah, thanks," he breathed, whiskey laced breath fanning over my face.

I nodded and tentatively took his hand, carefully maneuvering the two of us out of the party, tripping us up a bit. Zayn occasionally got too close, almost stepping on my heels before he apologized with a giggle that turned my insides into goo.

As soon as we were no longer hindered by the crowd Zayn draped himself over me, sluggish and cuddly in his liquor induced haze. I strong armed him over to the elevator, trying to get him to concentrate enough to tell me which room he was staying in.

He was like a sleepy kitten, nuzzling into my neck and muttering instructions, bending quite a ways to be able to do so. I felt like a very willing and happy captive as we rode all the way up to the top floor where One Direction was apparently staying in a hugely expensive suite.

I dragged Zayn along to the door he said was his and struggled to get the keycard from his jacket pocket while he still clung to me in an effort not to fall over. I finally slid it into the electronic slot, waiting for the light to turn green and praying Zayn actually remembered the right suite. Thank fuck he had. He may have been ridiculously skinny but what he lacked in fat he made up for with muscle, and muscle was **_heavy_**.

"'S to the right," he yawned when we entered, leaning on me heavily but not as much as he had been before.

He made to direct me to the correct room but I was glued to the spot, absolutely stunned by the view.

The entire far wall was made up of floor to ceiling windows overlooking the city. Twinkling lights and mountains in the distance, it was what I'd always dreamed living in the lap of luxary was all about. My breath caught in my throat as I turned my attention to a pouty Zayn, eyes wide and questioning like he would know how to answer the jumbled mess of questions running through my mind.

That entire night was nothing I had ever dared to dream and I knew I would never forget it. Couldn't, even if I had the audacity to try. It was the most amazing thing that had ever happened and would ever happen to me and I would treasure it forever. Even more so when Zayn pulled me down the hall to his room, fingers gently curling around my wrist, before he fell into an enormous bed.

I tumbled after him since he seemed to have forgotten to let go. I was sprawled half on top of him as he laughed, body shaking, and wiggled around onto his back. He closed his eyes, breath evening out, and his hands resting on my calf.

I moved to go, ready to leave him to his own devices now that he was safe and sound in his bed. Well, in the hotel's bed he would be occupying for however long One Direction was in LA.

"Hey, stay with me," Zayn whispered, clutching at my arm and eyes opening enough to plead with me.

They weren't as cloudy as they had been, his gaze sharpening as he stared, awaiting my answer.

I nodded mutely. As if I would've given him any other answer when those caramel eyes were begging me to say yes


	4. Chapter 4

Zayn's POV:

I jerked awake at the sound of the door clicking shut, head pounding and mouth tasting of death. I groaned, rolling to shove my face into a new pillow, reveling in the cool cotton against my face. I sighed, breathing in deeply only to fill my lungs with traces of a sweet scent, one that must've clung to the fabric.

I propped myself up on my elbows, brow furrowing as I stared at the rumpled pillow, feeling the mussed sheets. They were still warm from a body that wasn't mine. I reluctantly sat up, pressing my palm to quiet the knocking on the inside of my forehead as my eyes flicked around the room, searching for any sign of another person.

Cuddling with one of the boys wasn't uncommon, but none of them smelled like that. I was sure I didn't have sex, still fully clothed but for a missing jacket and shirt as well as my shoes which were all neatly placed on a cozy chair. Definitely not my work.

I had the vaguest memory of the girl from the lift, her nervous smile as she gazed up at me. I ran into her at the bar I was pretty sure, sloshed out of my mind, and started babbling about those mesmerizing eyes. Fuck, that's embarrassing.

Pushing myself out of bed with a growl I padded my way into the bathroom to wee and brush the disgusting taste from my mouth.

As I was scrubbing my teeth I suddenly remembered stumbling my way into the suite with the girl. She told me her name, I was sure of it, but I couldn't recall. More pressing was the humiliation building in my stomach at the way I'd begged her to stay, nothing on my mind but the need for her to be there and the want when she curled up with me.

Cursing at my idiocy I spat the froth from my mouth, hastily taking care of my tongue before rinsing and shutting off the water. It was like a kick to the gut when all the memories rushed back, emerging from the depths of an alcohol soaked mind, and one of them included the feeling of her soft lips.

I resisted the urge to bang my head on the countertop as I was assaulted with the image of her kiss bitten lips and flushed cheeks. Nothing else had happened, it was just a midnight kiss to celebrate the New Year, something that shouldn't have even occurred. But it had. Because I was lonely and I'd barely been able to speak to my own fiance who felt further away than ever. Because Shylah was beautiful and there was something about her. Something that had me going mad.

Fucking hell. She was just- when I kissed her it was like everything melted away. All the bullshit, and the fake cheating rumors, and the pressure. It was like she was the oasis in a desert that I couldn't help but indulge in. My head was so clear, the buzzing in my bones quiet for once, as I plunged my head beneath the surface and just breathed for once in a long time.

It was innocent and pure, her inexperience obvious but the raw passion shining through as she let me teach her, licking into her mouth with an unbridled urgency. It was mindblowing the way that a few kisses affected me so thoroughly. I was shaken to the core, questioning everything and wishing that she hadn't left. At least not without having gotten her number. But I hadn't and there was no way to.

I knew roughly what floor she was staying on but there was no way I could go from door to door to find....Shy, that was her name. It was absolutely mental to even consider it. All I could do was forget. There no point in doing anything else if I was being honest.

 

It wasn't until we were leaving for the airport that I found her again. In that fucking lift no doubt. The doors opened and there she was, eyes cast down and rolling suitcase next to her, a piece of clothing clutched in her hands. I nearly tripped over my own feet like Harry did at least once every morning without fail. But my boys were with me, all of them wary of the stranger that I strode towards so easily. She wasn't going to start screaming or crying or begging for anything like a lot of the fans did. And it's not that we minded, we loved our fans, without them we'd never be able to live our dreams, but it did make us wary of anyone we didn't know. It set us on edge, more often than not, just the anticipation of the unexpected. But I knew she wouldn't do anything, nothing other than maybe blush furiously and avoid eye contact. And she didn't. Shylah just stood there and smiled politely like she had with me two nights before as I joined her, pressing my back to the cool metal. The rest of the boys boarded along with Paul, making it a tight fit, but the warm tingling was solely radiating from Shylah, that much I knew.

I resolutely studied the back of Louis's head where he stood next to Harry, discreetly pressing their arms together so he could run the length of his finger over the younger boy's wrist. I nearly scoffed at the display, and probably would've if I weren't so hopelessly endeared and standing next to someone that made me feel like I was going to burst any moment.

There was nothing but the awkard silence of a lift full of uncomfortable people and the endlessness of the descent to the lobby. My heart was stuttering in my chest and came to a screeching halt when a soft hand brushed mine. A quiet breath whooshed from my lungs as the hand bumped mine again, and I resisted the urge to wrench my head towards Shylah in a silent question that was answered almost immediately. She pressed worn material into my palm and closed my fingers around it until she was sure that I had a good hold.

Without even looking I knew it was the shirt I'd insisted she borrow when I realized how uncomfortable she must've been in those skin tight clothes. They clung to her beautifully, but I knew first hand how constricting clothing like that could be when worn for too long. The fabric that felt like it was breathing with you, softly swathing you in comfort, turned into a suffocating force that you couldn't bear to wear a moment longer.

A soft sigh was emitted, whether it came from my lips or Shylah's I wasn't sure, all I could do was reach down to squeeze her hand in thanks as I tried not to vibrate out of my skin. It felt like tiny electrical currents were sparking up my arm and to my brain, forcing it to short circut. A small burst of madness coursed through me, convincing me it was a good idea to lace my fingers with hers.

Shy thumbed over my knuckle questioningly, asking what on earth I was doing but I couldn't have explained it if I tried if I was being honest. There was no way to fathom the discord that could be ignited from her simple touch or the way that it felt like I was being torn apart when she hastily let go once the lift doors opened. I bit back the groan of disappointment and followed my bandmates and security team as we all disembarked.

I glanced back to find Shy gazing at me contemplatively, eyes fixed on our retreating backs. There was a quirk of her lips in goodbye before I had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other.

 

I shut my eyes as calmly as possible, taking deep breaths through my nose as I clutched at the arm rests of my seat. I would never get used to flying, no matter how much I did it. It just seemed ridiculous that a ton of metal would stay in the air of it's own accord.

The nerves zinged through my body and sweat began to gather at my temples. It was too hot. Too hot and too loud and too much all at once as I opened my eyes when my legs were brushed by something. I assumed it was one of the boys come to distract me, though they usually let me be when I got like this.

I reluctantly looked up to meet light brown eyes speared with green as a soft smile stretched full lips across teeth. I nearly choked on a hello, wracking my brain on what to say, but I couldn't make any words come out as Shylah took the seat beside me, closest to the window I tried to avoid at all costs.

The plane began moving once Shy was seated and buckled. She must have made it onto the aircraft just before take off. My fists clenched tightly and I winced every time there was a turn. Shaky breaths in and out. In and out. That's all that I needed to do.

"Planes want to be in the air y'know," came a quiet voice tinged with amusement.

I cocked an eyebrow, sucking in more air, "Is that so?"

"Yeah, they love it, kind of like running for them, just without touching the ground," Shy told me.

I grimaced, hair drooping from the half hearted quiff I'd tried to style it in, "Not quite how I see it, love."

She hummed in acknowledgment before continuing, "Obviously. But think of it like this: the sky is their stage, the engines their music, and their passengers fans screaming encouragement. Planes are just like you, they just want their time in the sun, to get that rush of adrenaline and do what they love. For them its flying, and for you its performing."

I gawked at her, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape when the landing gears finally retracted as we jolted into the air. A gasp tumbled from my lips and I fumbled for the closest thing to hold onto- Shy's hand. Her fingers curled around mine and she held as tight as I did as we climbed higher in the sky.

"Thanks," I murmured, melting into my chair once we'd leveled out and were sailing above the clouds.

Shy squeezed my hand before her grip loosened as if she were about to let go. I quickly threaded our fingers together in protest, unwilling to lose contact just yet. I could feel the hesitancy radiating from the girl next to me before there was a soft sigh and a thumb rubbing over my knuckle.

For once I found myself looking forward to the long flight ahead of me.


	5. Chapter 5

Shylah's POV:

Anxiety crashed into me like a car smashing itself into a brick wall at a hundred miles an hour. It was an uncomfortable buzz beneath my skin, simmering beneath the surface and twisting wickedly with the crackling electricity from Zayn's fingers wrapped around mine.

"So where are you headed?" he asked tensely, shifting uneasily in his seat as he tried not to look out the window.

I glanced towards it, casually pulling down the shade so the blueness of the sky was obscured from his vision.

There was a quiet exhalation, and a grateful twitch of pouty lips as Zayn finally managed to relax in his chair, flexing his hand within the confines of mine. He tipped his head towards me, golden eyes smoldering intensely.

"My grandma, she had emergency business in New York and decided to drag me along with her," I answered, nodding towards where she was furiously tapping away at the keys of her laptop as it sat balanced in her lap a few seats ahead of us and to the left. Her brow was furrowed in agitation and I knew that she was giving the screen a scathingly loathsome look.

"How unfortunate," he commented lightly, amusedly quirking an eyebrow.

"Yes, so very horrible, having to travel first class for the first time, and seeing a city I've never been to," I smiled, barely containing a shiver when his thumb gently rubbed over my knuckles.

I wished it really was enjoyable. It was insanely cool to be in first class, next to Zayn, holding his fucking **_hand_** , and going to New York. It just wasn't about seeing the city or getting to experience something fun. More likely than not I was going to be caged in yet another hotel room with nothing to do. Sort of like Zayn must be sometimes on the road.

"It can be," he murmured sincerely, the smirk he gave me not quite reaching his eyes.

I believed it. Must've been incredibly difficult living the life he did; as much as it was thrilling probably.

　

It was about mid-flight, two hours in and I was restless, anxiousness leaving me jittery and unsettled. I felt wrong and stifled, body hot where Zayn was pressed against me. All the room that first class afforded the two of us and he was slumped over on my shoulder, having fallen asleep quickly. It baffled me how easily he trusted me to not take tons of selfies and post them all over the internest while he slept. Then again maybe he was just too exhausted to care at the moment. He did, after all, have dark circles under his eyes remniscent of bruised plums.

I tried to breathe evenly, willing my heart rate to steady out instead of skipping beats and leaping into my throat every time Zayn snuffled and nuzzled closer. I couldn't take it anymore, hand sweating in his before I carefully untangled it. Next was getting him to move. With bated breath and a painful knot in my stomach I gently extricated myself, then picked my way over his stretched out legs that were a hazard for a klutz like me.

I made my way to the bathroom in the back, ignoring everyone just as they did me, until I was safely tucked in the cubicle. It was much bigger than the one in coach, room to actually move around and breathe a bit. It was dimly lit, as though set up for a cheesy porno, the walls a dark gray, matching the toilet and the tan marble countertop flecked with black. There wasn't much room for being impressed, not when my lungs weren't still expanding with air correctly.

Closing my eyes I turned on the sink, cupping my hands underneath the stream of cool water to collect a shallow pool to dip my face in. I stayed there, droplets sliding down my face, and listening to the white noise of the faucet as it sputtered out the water I was wasting.

A soft knock punctured the peace bubble I'd created, sending me fumbling to turn off the water, tripping and nearly braining myself on the mirror in the process.

I wiped away the wetness on my face, "Occupied."

"I know, I can read," came the quiet reply.

There was no stopping the breathy giggle tearing its way from my throat as I unlocked the door, opening it to find Zayn leaning against the frame of it.

Instead of letting me out he pushed his way in, flipping the bolt behind him. I gazed up at him questioningly, taking in the way that the shadows cast on his face from the poor lighting made his cheekbones appear even sharper. His jaw seemed more angular, accentuated by the stubble lightly dusting his face.

I backed up a bit, allowing him more room but he just followed me, pressing forward until my spine was hitting the opposite wall, the length of Zayn's body flush against mine. It was suddenly harder to breathe for an entirely different reason as his fingers ghosted over my neck before threading themselves into my hair.

"Can't stop thinking about the other night," he whispered, a flash of guilt clouding his eyes before they darkened when my teeth sunk into my bottom lip.

I shivered, remembering the way that he had hovered over me, the way that his lids had hung heavy and the breathy way that his words carressed my skin as his hands did.

Zayn chuckled, thumbing at my lower lip to tug it free, before he slowly leaned closer, giving me more than enough time to pull away. But there was nowhere to go. There was a solid surface behind me and him in front of me. Zayn with the devastatingly thick eyelashes swooping low as he looked at me, and the tantalizing lips that knew exactly how to steal the breath from my lungs with an alarming effortlessness.

I gasped into his mouth, when it finally caught mine, and he swallowed down the moan that followed as I clutched at his shoulders. I needed the contact, to feel him steady and strong under my hands as he pried my lips open with an eager tongue, sliding it over mine and licking inside with a shocking urgency. There was nothing I could do. I was helpless, a prisoner to his touch and his kiss, and the way that his hand dropped to my hip, fingers digging in harshly.

Zayn crowded me even more, hands following the curves of my body until they were shoving into the back pockets of my jeans. I arched into him, groaning when he picked me up, pinning me to the wall by wedging his hips between my thighs and grinding forwards.

"Fuck, you're amazing," Zayn grunted, clawing at the back of my shirt and mouthing hotly against my neck.

A strangled whine tumbled past swollen lips as Zayn's scruff scratched over the sensitive skin of my throat, trailing sporatic nips. I tangled my fingers in his raven locks in encouragment.

"Please," I whimpered, rocking rhythmically against him as he rutted upward.

"What, love? What do you want?" he taunted, lips dragging over my cheek before his teeth were sinking in just below my jaw.

I wiggled in his hold, frantic to get closer somehow. I wanted to feel every part of him, wanted to feel his muscles shifting under feverish skin, see the way his abs tightened and flexed as he fucked into me or came.

"You," I breathed into his ear, burying my face in his neck as his searching hands shoved up under my shirt, his blunt nails biting into the flesh of my lower back.

I pressed my lips to his shoulder, just enjoying the way he held me tightly, wrapping myself around him.

One hand was suddenly smoothing its way over my stomach and between us, the tips of Zayn's fingers teasing my waistband. My brain shortcircuted, and I gasped as they slipped their way inside and I was touched in a way I never had been before. Zayn Malik was fingering me in an airplane bathroom and I couldn't think as my chest heaved and sweat beaded at my temples.

"Zayn," I warned, eyes fluttering shut as he rubbed little circles over my clit with disturbing skill.

"Christ, you're gorgeous, like," he bit out, hips hitching and stuttering as he showered me with light kisses.

I shook my head in protest, fisting his shirt in tight bunches as I cried out in surprise, at the way he seemed to mantain the perfect amount of pressure.

"Yes, you are, proper beautiful, writhing on my fingers like. So pretty," Zayn insisted, lips grazing over mine in an irresistable tease that I chased after blindly.

"Gonna come for me?" he asked, biting softly at my lower lip before sucking it into his mouth.

I moaned quietly, head tossing wildly as a foreign feeling built up in the pit of my belly, "I- I don't know. I've never- haven't-". I chased after the ecstasy that Zayn was creating in a haze of confusion.

"Fuck, never had an orgasm, babes?" he guessed, sliding a finger lower until it was actually inside of me.

I shook my head, hips pulsing in his hand as his own thrust up against me and our mouths crashed together in a sloppy kiss that was more teeth and tongue than anything.

"So bleedin' hot, fucking hell, want you to come for me, baby, wanna feel it," Zayn coaxed, driving his fingers in harder as his palm ground into my clit.

My eyes flew open, widening in surprise as I finally felt myself fall head first over a cliff into a deep sea of pleasure, spasming around Zayn and choking on a moan.

I clung to him desperately as Zayn surged forward, mouth enveloping mine and tongue fucking inside right away as he ground into me faster, harder.

"C'mon, Zayn," I pleaded, needing to see him come, wanting to give him what he'd given me.

"Yeah, yeah, gonna come," he groaned, latching his lips to mine to try and muffle the cry that poured itself into my mouth while I sucked on his tongue.

His hips jerked, arms tightening around me before his body slowly went lax and a stain started to bloom on the front of his sweats.

"Well that's embarrassing," he chuckled breathlessly, carding his hand through my hair, and pressing a lingering kiss to my lips before he slowly sunk to the floor, my legs slung over his thighs.

"That was incredible," I corrected, resting my forehead on his.

"Yeah, brilliant," Zayn agreed, lips tugging into a dazzling smile.

We stayed on the bathroom floor, kissing and laughing and kissing some more until Zayn was squirming from the drying come in his boxers. He pulled me into a hug, encasing me in his strong arms and nuzzling into my hair before I clambered from his lap and we started to clean up.

Raking my fingers through my hair, and fixing Zayn's, he tried to distract me with little pecks to my cheeks and neck and lips. I pushed him away after one last searing brush of mouths, and he left first to return to his seat.

When I finally emerged Zayn had already discreetly changed into new pants and watched as I approached. He threw the blanket on his lap over mine too as soon as I sunk down next to him, immediately drawing me in until I was curled under his arm and we were stretched across the two seats.

I knew that none of it probably meant anything, that I didn't mean anything and Zayn probably did this kind of thing all the time but I couldn't bring myself to care. It was just starting to sink in that he had a fiance, a girl he'd been with for years, but I couldn't find it in me to feel guilty. Not when it had felt so right, not when every touch set me on fire, and lying there next to him was like every missing piece of myself slotted into place.

The future, what would happen when I got off the plane, well that was something that could take care of itself. Until then I was going to bask in my post orgasm haze and the comfort that Zayn brought as he sighed, lips grazing over the back of my neck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies if the smut was kinda crappy. I'm pretty rusty.


	6. Chapter 6

Zayn's POV:

I dunno what the the fuck I was thinking like. Going in there after Shylah was absolutely mental, but I couldn't help myself. There was something about her so inexplicably magnetic that I wouldn't be able to stay away even if I tried harder than reminding myself that I shouldn't. It was especially hard when all I could do was revel in her proximity, in her soft body and the smell of her skin.

Sighing in content I burrowed further into the blanket that covered the two of us, drawing Shy to my chest. She yawned, cheek rubbing over the soft fabric of my shirt and more than a little part of me hoped that it would smell like her after the flight.

I readjusted, producing my phone and some headphones from my pocket, unraveling them and offering an earbud to Shy. She smiled, gratefully taking it and pushing it into her ear as I thumbed over the touchscreen of the newest iPhone. She watched me curiously as I scrolled through my playlists, thumb stopping to hover over one before she nodded her consent.

The smooth strains of of an R&B song started up as we lay there silently, just enjoying each other's company without the need to fill the silence. It was quite shocking, the level of comfort that we'd reached in a short amount of time, then again, it could have a lot to do with mutual orgasms.

Fuck, I'd cheated on my fiance. I withheld the groan bubbling up in my throat and the stifled the urge to throw myself from the plane. I cocked up. Massively. It was one huge mistake after another with me. I'd basically proven all the tabloids and Perrie's insecurities during her moments of weakness and doubt right. I could feel a tight ball of shame knotting up in my stomach, replacing the soft glow brought on by Shy. That is, until she looked up. Her eyes blazed, bright and knowing as she squeezed my hand, green vibrantly overpowering the brown. I smirked, gently nudging her nose with mine in reassurance before planting a light kiss there.

She postively beamed up at me, twin blooms of red blossoming in her cheeks. There was something about her that I wanted to protect, and I wasn't sure it was her innocence if joining the mile high club was any indication. It was just this essence within her, the purity she exuded, the light in her eyes even as they echoed wisdom and a ghost of pain.

I knew she didn't expect me to be anything more to her than whatever this was. She knew as well as I did that as soon as we left this plane we would probably never see each other again and something in me revolted at the thought. My heart twisted sharply, like a flannel being wrung out.

 

The flight was over too soon, the attendant announcing our landing in New York and instructing us to put up our trays and to buckle up. I reluctantly disentangled myself from Shylah as we fastened ourselves in, stowing my blanket away in my carry on. It was one of the things I consistently traveled with besides various forms of entertainment. A swooping low in my stomach began as I was reminded we were in fact on an airplane. One that was in fact about to land, and could possibly collide disastrously with the ground resulting in our untimely and horrendous deaths.

Shy's hand tentatively slid into mine again and I had never been more in awe with a connection I had with someone. It was so raw, visceral, and more than a bit intriguing, like. It was positively mind boggling.

We stayed that way until the plane was safely on the ground and passengers had begun disembarking. Once again I was faced with having to say goodbye to Shylah. And for the second time in my life I gave a girl, er, woman a ring.

I slipped the platinum ring from my middle finger, one that I wore nearly every day, and slid it onto Shy's thumb. It still barely fit properly, loose around the knuckle, but I kissed it anyway, watching as she fixed me with a questioning but accepting gaze before slinging her backpack over her shoulder. I stayed put as she left, stepping out into the line of passengers and filing out, disappearing behind a bulky man pushing to get off the plane.

Inhaling sharply I banished the thought of Shylah from my mind, stowing her away in a box to keep for days when it got harder, when plane rides were endless and I was shaky and unsure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Soooo, hoped you liked it! I know that the ending was kind of short, but this particular chapter just happened to be inspired by an event in the original that it's based off of (Through the Dark) and I felt like it tied a few things up while including something significant from the other stories.
> 
> Anywayyy, I hope you'll read the sequel that I have decided to name The Dark of Night. It'll roughly follow the timeline of "And Into the Light" as well as explore Zayn and Shylah's relationship further.
> 
> Thank you all for reading, it means so much to me!!!! Love you!!!!!!!!!!!!


End file.
